Went for a reunion lunch for my parents and (part of) their gang way back from UM CF days. Old friends one table, children (that's me!) another table.


The children's table.

These reunions typically happen when one family is back from the U.S.A. for holiday, in particular, my childhood friends Cindy and Catherine (and younger brother who was born after I left). Actually, I've always, and still do, call them by their Chinese names. Lotsa memories of playing at their house, as well as an outing to the zoo, among others.


Full version of the camel picture some of you may recognize. The girl behind me is Cindy.


One Christmas.


Cindy and my sister share the same birth date. I would have been seven here.

The last reunion was more than ten years ago, a 3D2N retreat at a private beach in Port Dickson. The adults would have their own sessions, whilst the children (I was eleven) would play on the beach literally all day. Since Cindy, Catherine, and I knew only each other at the reunion, we played separately from the other (majority) kids. We were all making sandcastles.

And the well-told story goes like this: There was this boy (a year younger than I) from the other group, who would keep coming over to our side with loads of attitude and nasty things to say, especially about our sandcastle. He even stomped down one of our walls! (This fragment recalled by Cindy and Catherine.) He was such an obnoxious nuisance that I often complained to his parents about him whom I only knew as "Su Ann's brother" or "Uncle ___'s son".

Fast forward many years later, I met Shern Ren at dNA. Nice, smart boy. One evening after camp, I happened to mention him at the dinner table and, being such a unique name, my mom went, "Shern Ren, Uncle __'s son?" I was pleasantly surprised that our parents knew each other, but right the next second, it dawned on me...


Disclaimer: Shern Ren has long since grown up to be a decent and sociable, albeit crazy, scientist, a mushy poet, and a caring friend. *wink*


Sandcastle gang. (Shern Ren looks sooooo innocent here. ;P)

It was supposed to be a special Samuel meet-up, but due to unforeseen circumstances, it ended up more of Shern Ren's Back!

Among his first words to me:

"You look hungry. You look like you're wilting."

"Stop trying to psychoanalyse me, I know I'm very interesting."


(Above photos taken by Michelle Hong [right] and Benjamin Ong [left])

Poor Michelle lost her camera (exact same model as mine) in Thailand. On the subject of a camera fund, it was said that 2¥ won't get you very far, it can't even buy a camera button. In fact, it just pays for the receipt.


We got bored waiting for someone to powder her nose.
(Notice the earphones)


Of pâté and marble toast,
Of date[:] pudding and hardened cotton candy,
Of clean tables and revolving doors,

As always,

Kuala Pilah is one sleepy, sleepy town.
Where lembu roam the streets,
The silver-haired grace storefront alleys.
Walls are footprint, graffiti, and gum-free,
And photocopying costs three cents.
It's small, quiet, and oh-so-uneventful.
Things move S l o w.

This trip was all about architecture, photography, kopitiam, and of course, friends. I left most of the photography, especially architectural, to Benjamin and his film camera.

The Istana Lama Seri Menanti is plain and simple for a child's fairytale imagination, 'tis really an ideal place for that ubiquitous Malaysian pastime: lepak. The steps to the upper levels were extremely steep, we concluded that the royal family must have had very nimble feet. Speaking of which, I noticed the hopscotch boxes drawn out on the ground outdoors and below, three separate sets for abundant offspring, which really made the palace feel that much more down-to-earth. After exploring the courtier galleries, colonial-style dining room (complete with anti-theft barcode tags on the cutlery and 'fruits'), and royal bedchambers, we parked ourselves on the third level balcony, where it was slightly breezy and timelessly lazy.



We found leisurely occupation and amusement in observing an on-site wedding photo shoot, speculating whether the couple was genuine, and whether it was the photographers (four of them!) or the models that were in training, if at all. Reminds us of the visit to the paddy museum in Alor Setar, where Shern Ren was more interested in the (real live) water buffalo lazing out front. There, a mini documentary on mastication and repelling of insects was produced.

Back in Kuala Pilah town, the six of us were so obviously out-of-towners. We were stared at everywhere we went. For one, there were hardly any youngsters around our age, as most of them would've probably run off to the cities, studies or otherwise. Our behaviour, body language, and dressing also made a difference. The budget hotel we stayed at was already the most modern looking building around. The shopkeepers, stall owners, and taxi drivers habitually asked where we're from. One uncle enquired, "Why'd you come here?" "(To) visit a small town." He just smiled.


Night market.

That night we had [deep] sharing,
Where are you at?
Each time it is
Like a watering hole,
To release and to replenish.


D, B, J, A, Y, & T.



Timer-ed jump shots are tricky and difficult. We took a total of twenty (20), with varying results. We sure burned off that big brunch we had earlier, and drew many, many amused stares from passers-by, whether on foot, bicycle, car, or lorry.

Going home marked my first time ever taking the KTM Komuter from end to end, that is from Seremban to Rawang (whilst it is still considered the end station), no stops in between.


Terima Kasih. Sila Datang Lagi.
Photo album here.

The ghost of Camp Cameron won't let me rest in peace (been having epic dreams past coupla nights) till I've dedicated a post to it.


Family

Family is a very central element at Camp Cam. Mine was the TENders family of Chalet 10. Our fortes were cleaning (we often fought to do household duties, even when it wasn't our turn), eating (camp kitchen notice had it that we were +3 portions), and singing (be it choir, dikir barat, the Elmo song, or commando marching).


Family photo @ Boh Plantations.
(Above photo taken from official photography)


Our home.


Me at the TENery, twin doors that open out to a steep drop, and an awesome view of the mountains.


Girls' shower list.


Sessions

We were taken on a quick journey of the Bible, made to confront our relationships with God, self, others (the most intense sessions), and the world, and taught Bible study methods in the vein of what I do in literary studies.

I'd like to say more, but I'm bound to save some surprises for juniors attending camp in future.

Instead I shall post my personal response to Psalm 90, the following lines were written to accompany a pastel crayon drawing:

God of Moses,
God of Today.

Life is short,
Not one sin

Teach me O Lord


Devotion

Morning devotion had a special name, as we were introduced to a method new to many of us. Again, I remain tight-lipped on this one, though I shall venture to mention how God sent mist to descend upon the mountains at an hour inconsistent with every other morning, in order to coincide with our once-in-a-camp experience.


Games

For the first time in my life, I actually enjoyed captain ball (variation of netball, popular in local Christian circles). Previously whenever I found myself forced to play, I would just run around the field for show, wishing it would end quickly, or I could be substituted out. This time, I actually played, even scored a shot early in the round I was in. And when the final whistle blew, I actually wished I could play more.

In relay ping pong, the combination order of Daniel-Yen Yen-Su-Jian worked so well, I can claim that in the two games we played, my family's service never died in my hands.

I must also mention the famous confrontations I had with Li Ern on the captain ball field. When both of us stepped up to face each other (from opponent families) at the referee's starting throw, we screamed at each other. And I mean SCREAM. We screamed again when we met at the post-game handshake line-up. No hard feelings, just a UM final year thing. *wink*


Food

Up in the cool Cameron's weather, my appetite was very, very good, especially during the first half of camp. I was constantly given extra rice, and picking up leftovers. The first lunch outing I had half a lamb chop rice, half an assam laksa, a chicken burger with cheese (minus two bites), half a strawberry pancake, and half a peach pancake (all halves and minus bites cuz of sharing/trying). And earlier that morning I had had two and a half bowls of porridge. My bedmate christened me Miss Big Eater.


Our hoard.

The second outing, the chalet chef (Su-Jian, who dreams of opening a restaurant one day) and I stocked up on extra food supplies: frankfurters, luncheon meat, flour, milk, cheddar cheese, jelly mix, chocolates, and marshmallows (that we'd originally intended for supper milo, but when we found out about the barbecue...). Our 'grandfather' (camp staff) commented of outing that we ate like they never fed us, and stocked our shelves as though they'd never feed us again!


Su-Jian re-cooking vegetables he thought lacking in taste.


Mongolia

Our family was proud to have 'Uncle' Shagai, from Mongolia. From him, I learned to write my name in Mongolian. Thus it was no surprise which country/culture we were assigned for pseudo-cultural night.


Preparations.
(Above photo courtesy of Joshua Entol)

We came up with an interactive diorama depicting Tsagaan Sar, the Mongolian New Year in the first month of Spring. Guests would be invited to participate in the Mongolian custom of greeting the father and mother of the house, as well as 'tobacco' exchanging, and sample Mongolian milk tea, a concoction of tea, milk, and salt, cooked by Uncle Shagai himself.


Group 1 (take turns to host and to visit other chalets).
(Above photo courtesy of Joshua Entol)

It still amazes me how we managed to transform the chalet into the inside of a Mongolian yurt, covering as many traces of modern living as possible, even covering the entrance to the kitTEN (chalet kitchenette), and wrapping garbage bags around the flourescent lighting to dim the place.


Reflection

Reflections were eight-hour affairs of camp-wide silence and, of course, personal reflection.

Pictured below is the top left corner of my camp journal, accompanied by the pair of earrings I happened to be wearing each time. Hehe.


Week 1.


Week 2.


Week 3.


Connections

What's a local camp without the inevitable discoveries of mutual friends and connections? Apart from Su-Jian who is a childhood friend of Soo Tian from the same hometown, and Adrian's brother Abel (in my family), Zachary's brother Justin (in Li Ern's family), and Bryant's sister Adeliyn (in Shoba's family), I was connected to every single girl in my room! Huey Lin's senior at the UPM CF is my Form 6 classmate Cheun Yen, and her cousin Ke Sin is my hostel junior. Audrey's uncle is my father's colleague. She also knows Simon, from the same matriculation college as herself, who is now a UM medical student. Huey Lin knows Timothy from school, who is also doing medicine at UM. Huey Lin and Audrey sleep on either side of me at camp, while this Timothy and Simon are now best friends and roommates in uni (correct me if I'm wrong, Tim)! The other two girls in the room are Swee Mang, who knows Tee Ming from USMKK CF, and Melissa, who knows some of the PKVians from school. Sharon from the other girls' room knows a PKVian, Emily Tang, from MBS, KL. *sweat*



Melting into pretty purple dahlias.


Every so often in the thick of camp routine, I craved alone time to pause and process.
Ironically, getting back in touch with reality involved living in my head.

Photo albums here, here, and here.

Flick of a finger turns on a switch. WHOOOOOOSSSSSH! I step into the wind. Stand in front of a continuous, huge, enormous gust of wind. It's blowing so strongly, mercilessly, but I stand put, as best as I can. Squint my eyes tight, hair flailing wildly behind. Stretch my arms forward and, I collapse. I'm clawing at the ground, against the force of a gale. Like a little bug on the windscreen. I'm blown away, literally.

If I can't have it natural, I'd settle for a giant industrial-grade fan.

Now I'm on a green, grassy, large field so wide, it stretches as far as my eyes want to limit. I run straight ahead. I run like I'm dodging a bullet. I run in circles. I SHOUT with all my might. Compulsion and contorted face. Only the heavens hear me.

And my car parked nearby.

I stretch one leg out and up behind, raising it till it touches the back of my head. I raise my arms to hold it in place and, I'm turning turning turning turning turning turning turning turning turning turning. Lowering my leg to parallel the ground, and my arms splayed out ready for flight, I spin spin spin spin spin spin spin spin spin and not get dizzy.

Can I shout at you?

A sifu shows up. Whispers in my ear. I shake my head but he insists. I lean back, and then break into a run. And a spinning leap. The floor is a trampoline I bounce on, head meeting legs in pike position when at the top. Fluid, full of energy. Then I do giant Jumping Jacks (half-jacks, actually) up in mid air. I'm on top of the world.

Feel the rush.